


The Proposal

by ser_atlantisite



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Amaranthine (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff and Humor, Grey Warden style, Marriage Proposal, Slice of Life, Sorry Not Sorry, Vigil's Keep, but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_atlantisite/pseuds/ser_atlantisite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as the Warden-Commander and Arlessa of Amaranthine means sometimes you have to go to the terrible parties and pretend you want to be there. But with her partner by her side, nobility should be nothing compared to darkspawn.<br/>Except Alistair has gotten very good at ducking out of these.<br/>So she is going to have to be very creative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> From an ongoing argument between my friend and I over King Alistair vs Warden Alistair. this idea scored me a few points :D

"Alright so the queen has officially sent an invitation to the party she pretty much already ordered me to go to, so now we have to. . .to. . . What are you doing?"

The Warden-Commander stopped just inside the door of their rooms, the ridiculously decorated card from the Queen held as far away as possible (it was scented, for crying out loud Anora...), but now her focus was on the scene before her.

Of Alistair, more specifically, frozen by the bed, looking very startled and very guilty. His hand hovered over the pile of clothing he had been stuffing into a bag. He was wearing most of his armour and had the rest, along with his sword and sheild, ready to go on the end of their bed.

"This isn't what it looks like," he said carefully, straightening up.

_"No. No no no no no--"_

"Love, I can explain--"

"You have got to be kidding me. You are NOT doing this again!" She threw the card, years of practice sending it clean across the room. Not that she noticed at that moment.

"But I--"

"I am NOT attending another one of these _stupid-blighted-noble-parties by myself_!" It took a lot of effort to keep from stomping her foot like a petulant child, instead jabbing a finger at him accusingly. "You always do this."

He threw his hands up defensively. "Stroud needs me to take over his expedition."

"Sigrun can take it."

"There are new recruits, and she can be a little...enthusiastic? About dying in battle--"

She pinned him with the full force of her Commander glare--the one that stopped green recruits and seasoned veterans alike in their tracks and faced down armies of monsters without wavering.

Alistair merely huffed and rolled his eyes. "Its just a dinner. I won't be missing much."

"Then why do you always work so hard to weasel out of every. Single. One of them?"

He tried very hard to sound offended. "Not true, I've been to...uh..."

"Two. Right after the Blight. YEARS ago."

"Aaand I was an absolute mess at them. You were there, you remember."

"You were not horrible," she said firmly, waving her hand dismissively and trying to sound encouraging. "A few stuttered introductions, that's nothing. If you had attended more since--"

"I would have started a war with the neighbouring Arlings by now."

She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. _That wasn't even funny don't you dare laugh right now_. A clenched jaw and strong exhale, and the urge passed. 

"That's not how Ferelden works." She was back to glaring at him.

"See? You know this, that is why you are so formidable at these things, my darling Commander."

"You promised you would attend the next one with me," she waved her now empty, still scented hand at him, "and this is it, dearest. Time to pay up."

He gestured helplessly at himself. "This isn't some cheap excuse. I have actual important Grey Warden, stuff, that needs doing."

"Wha--And I don't???"

"No, of course you do. It's just that, as our glorious Commander, your stuff also, sometimes, involves attending the boring grown up parties, a trully important sacrifice, while we, your underlings, handle the mundane and tedious monster killing. It's called teamwork."

How he managed to sound both genuinely proud and patronizing in that same sentence, she would never know. Though anyone in Vigil's Keep could have told her that he had learned it from her.

He moved as if to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but her glare was all daggers and lightning and promises of death, so he stayed his hand.

"I'm not trying to send you in alone, Love, that would be _cruel and unfair_ ," she pointed her glare and ground out her words, "I'm asking you to go with me this time. Like you promised after the last one. When I'm there alone I end up cornered and it frequently ends up about my _sex life_ and they are either being judgy or giving me _offers_. Showing up alone this much _means something_ , Alistair," she ended, almost pleadingly.

They had never made any secret out of their relationship. There had been less interesting chances for idle gossip when it was a very public fact they were involved and in love and very devoted. But enough annoying idiots who would not be dwelt upon just then behaved as if the lack of rings and a Chantry certificate meant they were both available. It was more annoying than anything else really, but still.

And the continued lack of Alistair's presence by her side at official events was not helping.

For a long second he looked guilty again, but she waited before congratulating herself. She saw in his eyes the moment he switched tactics, and inwardly groaned. How else could she convince him at this point?

He moved over to the couch in front of their hearth and sat heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. When he twisted around to look at her, an apology was written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, Love. It's just," he sighed, "around all those nobility, I never. . . feel like Alistair. They're always comparing me to Cailan, or-or Maric, or You or themselves or, Void, even Anora. I'm some...oddity, there for them to pick over."

She went to stand in-front of him, arms crossed and face tightly controlled. It took far more effort than it usually did. "And what about me, hey? You think they treat me any different? _Especially_ when I attend alone. It's what nobles do, and avoiding it doesn't actually make them stop."

"You at least are their Hero. I'm just. . . " He put his face in his hands and drew a ragged breath. He looked vulnerable right then, so tired, sad and defeated.

And it was all nugshit. It bothered him, sure, but she knew her lover far too well miss that he was really just being petty at this point. A cheap, if well-executed excuse that just happened to be true, all to get out of making small talk with largely useless, self-important nobility. Nobility she was sick to death of fending off without his stupid and cute jokes in her ear to make the evenings easier to tolerate.

Two could play this game.

She gave a long exhale, carefully arranging her face into something sympathetic. She sat beside him and draped her arm across his shoulders, pulling him close and resting her head against his. "You, Love, are your own man. People are always going to try and hold you to some, ridiculous standards but they don't matter. You know who you are, and I know who you are." 

"Oh? And who's that?"

"A man who is kind, and brave and funny, a hopeless romantic, and who does not waver in his beliefs." She could not help the smile. "Who has a taste for cheese that borders on the blasphemous, and gets this little crease in his brow when he's thinking his moves through on the field, who always manages to hog the blankets--"

"Yah well you kick--"

"And can be far too warm to share a bed with in the summer, though are just perfect in the winter and on the road.

After a moment she ran her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. "They could hold you to Andraste Herself, Love, but you are you, and You are a wonderful man."

He turned to look her in the eye, and she gave a smaller, shyer smile. "I really mean that," she said. "So show them, and _come to the stupid party_."

He gave a low chuckle, gaze flicking towards the fire in the hearth. He moved impossibly closer, focused on her lips, so near she could feel his heat against her skin. Her thoughts were wavering, losing ground in the feeling of smug victory and anticipation. His lips parted and her heart stuttered in a confident little victory dance.

"Nice try," he breathed, and was gone.

He was up and moving around the couch back towards the bed, throwing a cheeky grin at her as he did (the ass). "Though that was honestly very moving to hear. You should write a song with Leliana next time she is in town. Or, country, I suppose."

His Warden let out a long string of curses.

"Maybe don't include those."

"Alistair--"

"I will be back in a few days. Try not to kill anyone while I am gone. Although maybe if you do, Anora will stop inviting you and then you will never have this problem again. I'll leave it to you to decide, my lovely Arlessa." He was already buckling his weapons into place.

"Alistair Theirin if you walk out on this one," she nearly shouted, scrambling over the back of their couch, "I swear on the Maker, the Creators and all the damn Paragons I will Marry you and name you my Arl and then you will have to attend every single Dinner, Ball, and Gallafrom now until the day you die!"

She raised her chin defiantly, staring down the back of his head. This was a completely ridiculous threat, of course. But picking their battles was something they did all the time. It was this one now or. . . Or. . .

Wait. . .

Alistair had gone very still. He had stopped fidgeting with his belts, finally placing his sword back on the bed. Another few moments (or was it an age?) passed while they stood there before he turned around.

"Did you just. . . propose?"

"I . . . u-uhm . . ."

His face split into a crazed grin and he laughed almost maniacly, trying to cover it with his hand. "Did you just threaten me with marriage? I'll admit, I wasn't expecting. . . that."

 _Breathe_ , she reminded herself gently, _just focus on your breathing_.

They had discussed. . . that before. How neither had any plans for the future beyond fighting with all they had for each other, to stay together. They both knew actions spoke louder than words, and actually living for each other like they had, like they were, was all the commitment they needed from each other. But actually being able to call him her husband, that convenient, if far-too-simple term, to express to the rest of the world their dedication. . .

It had its own appeal.

They had agreed on all that, but they decided they hadn't needed the label then. Had left it for later.

But now. . .

Alistair crossed his arms and relaxed back against a bed post, a smirk rolling over his face. "With incentive like that my dear, why would I ever agree to those dreadful parties?"

". . . Are you saying. . ." She tried to move towards him but couldn't, couldn't even finish the thought. Were they really. . . ?

His smile fell slightly, nerves finally showing through, and his eyes locked onto hers, burning. He swallowed. "Depends. What am I saying?"

"That. . . If I were to ask--"

"Yes." He flushed and looked away, cleared his throat and focussed on his Warden again. "If I were asked. T-that is."

She felt that rush, then. The fear mixed with the calm that came in a fight, when her second wind kicked in and she was ready to pick up the offensive again.

_She was ready._

The realization came, as certain as it always did when it came to her Warden. An idea followed just as quick, and she flashed Alistair a smile that told him to wait right there.

She hurried over to their wardrobe. Had she left it with her equipment, or her personal things? An agonizing minute of searching later and she found it--a small amulet of red steel, useless compared to her current accessories. But it was shaped in an almost perfect rose. She had pocketed it out of sentiment and completely forgotten about it.

Alistair hadn't made a sound while she searched. When she turned back to him, the steel trinket folded between her hands, his face was a mix of a dozen emotions at once and his brow had that crease in it. His eyes flicked between her and her hands. He swallowed.

She walked back to him, her heart hammering so hard he had to be hearing it. She sank to one knee in front of him and his eyes popped. But he didn't run. Somewhere under the layers of panic and excitement she found this whole thing very funny.

"Alistair Theirin, Grey Warden, love of my life, my. . .rare and wonderful partner amidst the darkness," --heat bloomed through her at the memory and it helped carry her through the final words-- "will you marry me?"

Her hands were still closed. She mentally kicked herself and revealed the amulet, its chain running off her palm like liquid copper.

He reached for the rose, shaking, but hesitated, moving to her level on both knees before taking her hands in his. His fingers trailed delicately over the fine metal petals. He started laughing, face breaking into his beautiful smile.

"You already know my answer."

"Say it anyway?"

"Yes."

"Again."

He leaned over their hands and kissed her. " _Yes_ ," he breathed against her lips.

And now she was laughing too, and crying, just a little, but so was he. She undid the clasp of the engagement pendant and put it on him, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Where did you even find this?" The was a tremor in his voice.

"Oh, you know." She settled the rose flush over the griffon of his breast plate and admired it The red stood wonderfully against the silver and blue. "Found it in a cave somewhere. The usual."

He cupped her cheeks, fingers brushing over every scar he had long since memorized and kissed her again, her brows, her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, back to her lips. When they separated all his armour plate slid off him to the floor, a very smug gleam in her eyes.

"Well, alright then," he grinned. Alistair slid both his hands to the backs of her thighs and hoisted her onto his hips. He managed to stand like that and moved his armour carefully to the floor, but his giddy rush won out against his balance and tipped them both onto the bed with a yelp.

She moved over him, his hands holding her close as hers worked the buckles on his mail tabard, her mouth leaving a trail of fire across his jaw. When the last buckle released she left one more kiss to his lips before rolling off of him. He groaned at her absence but was already up and pulling the armour over his head. The Commander had already scampered up to a more comfortable spot on the matress, pulling off her boots and pushing Alistair's excess clothes to the floor. He came back to her then, his face lit with joy and love and desire, and her heart flipped at the sight.

He settled against her and kissed her again, slowly, thoroughly, in absolutely no rush. They had the rest of their lives, after all. She could feel the rose caught between them, cradled between their hearts, and pulled her husband-to-be closer to her. Eventually he pulled back enough to look at her, studied her with that fire in his gaze, face as flushed as she felt, and started making his way down her throat to the collar of her shirt.

Already she was fighting for breath. "So...coming to... this one or, not?"

She could feel him smile against her neck, bright as the sun itself. "And leave my fiance alone with all those nobles, unescorted and unarmed?"

She scoffed. "Never unarmed Love."

His wandering hand found one of her knives. "Yes, clearly," he teased, before tossing it aside.

"Tsk, that's just the begining."

He paused then, his eyes meeting hers again. In that fire she could see everything there, their years together and everything they had gone through side by side, hand in hand, all his love and devotion, and their new promise, burning bright and strong and eager.

"Yes," he said, much quieter, breathier than before, "the begining."

And she pulled him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of got away from me but I had way too much fun writing it.  
> (if anyone reinterprets this for the other Li's link me!!!)


End file.
